


For The Greater Good

by PhantomEngineer



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-04-26 09:40:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14399409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhantomEngineer/pseuds/PhantomEngineer
Summary: Albus and Aberforth argue for the last time. Albus leaves Godric’s Hollow with Gellert, determined to change the wizarding world for the greater good. The road to success is hard, and the road to hell is paved with good intentions as they carve out their place in the history books of the future. Books a young boy called Tom Riddle will read.





	1. April 1905

**Author's Note:**

> Credit for the initial idea goes to Snuffles-Groovy-Doghouse.

“Fine,” Albus said, angry but still in perfect control, “Fine. If you think you know best then you can care for her. You can see how it feels to be the one responsible for everything,”

Gellert stood behind him like a dark shadow for all that he looked like a sculpted blonde angel, standing by the door, as if he had only just entered or was just about to leave. As if he had no real part in the family drama unfolding in front of his eyes. As if he hadn’t played a role in instigating it, as if his presence hadn’t acted as a catalyst. Behind Aberforth stood Ariana, hovering awkwardly in the doorway between the hallway the brothers stood in and the living room, drawn to investigate the sounds of anger. She shrunk away from the raised voices, unused to her brothers arguing in front of her so openly, unaware that it had been a long time since the two brothers had held a cordial conversation without it descending into bad tempered disagreement, the facade of agreeability that was strained and cracked being just a show for her benefit. They had both struggled to act as if things were alright around her, both talking to her and trying their best not to distress her despite their two differing opinions constantly pulling her in opposite directions. Each one convinced they knew best, contradicting the other and constantly being on the verge of coming to blows. 

Aberforth glared at his brother, crossing his arms defiantly. A part of him didn’t believe that Albus would actually leave Ariana to his care, no matter that he believed he could look after their sister better. A part of him wanted Albus to just go away, to stop being a constant bad-tempered presence lingering round the family home, his resentment at having to care for their sister permeating his every action. It would be easier for Ariana without the two brothers fighting all the time, savage words behind closed doors. It would be easier for everyone with Gellert away from them all, Albus’s dissatisfaction with the situation seeming to only increase with their constant contact. But Gellert remained, a constant shadow over the house. And despite his clear reluctance, his desperation to leave, Albus too remained, making it clear to everyone how much he hated it. How much he blamed them all for keeping him there, weighed down by a responsibility he didn’t want, a responsibility that he shirked as much as he could, preferring to read obscure books and discuss political philosophy with Gellert, his family a ball and chain that kept him bound unwillingly to the house. 

“I can do so much more than this,” Albus continued, as if now he had started finally speaking his mind all of his fury at being limited to his role as carer for an ungrateful brother and oblivious sister he was unable to stop, “With Gellert I could change the world, for the better. For everyone. A bright and wonderful future for all. But here, I am limited to this life that is barely worth living, doing nothing but fighting you over every irrelevant issue you raise with no reason except to constantly distract me. There’s nothing more I can do for Ariana, she’s never going to get better. I would be doing more good if I could be free to create a new world order where she would be safe, but I can’t even read here. I can’t do anything here except rot away, wasting my potential and allowing the world to continue to slide towards destruction. Well, I am done now. You can have the house and everything that comes with it. You can be responsible for everything, take care of Ariana however you wish. Hide away, the two of you in perpetual ignorance, playing with the goats that rival you for intellect. I’m leaving, with Gellert, to do what I can to create a perfect world,”

Ariana flinched, not so much from the words that she mostly tuned out, but from the tone. She had always been sensitive to arguing, something they had tried to shield her from. She had always been unpredictable and unstable in her reactions too, a constant loose canon since the incident. Her eyes flickered from brother to brother, her lips parted as she clung to the doorframe beside her as if hoping for its protection against what might unfold. Aberforth felt nothing but fury, anger making his fists shake. He almost felt like cursing his brother and the German who lingered in the shadows, the instigator and catalyst but only in that he had allowed the problems that had bubbled beneath the surface to be dragged out into the light. He was almost speechless, unable to say anything, overwhelmed by the sea of emotions that nearly drowned him.

That hallway had seen far too many arguments, both vicious yelling and quiet, whispered words of anger. Aberforth could barely remember the last time he had looked at Albus with anything other than anger, and he likewise the last time Albus had looked at him with anything other than pure contempt seemed so long ago that it could easily be fiction, a false memory invented to make their childhood seem better by comparison to their present. Even their most basic conversations, kept as devoid of anything but the necessity of communication, boiled with irritation and the division that was tearing them apart. 

“Go then,” Aberforth said, the words almost choking him as he said them, barely able to keep himself calm enough to speak. Barely able to prevent himself from drawing his wand on his brother and starting a duel in front of their guest and their sister. He clamped down on his anger as best he could, restraining himself. He could hold himself in check for Ariana, at least briefly. If Albus continued his ranting, then eventually Aberforth would snap. He had never been as eloquent with words, preferring to settle matters quickly with action rather than the excessively complex theorising Albus would do. It was just another manner in which the two brothers were like cheese and chalk, similar in appearance and their professed love for their little sister, but nothing more. 

For a moment, Aberforth thought that they would come to blows, whether it be magical curses that brothers should never exchange or the undignified muggle brawling that they might have indulged in as children, only now with a savage edge. Physically, Aberforth knew he had the upper hand, though he knew without a doubt that Albus would know all sorts of nasty spells he had never encountered before, read in one of his obscure texts. There was a tension and a charge to the air, as if sparks of magic could almost be seen, the emotions soaring. He wondered if they would both survive, should it come to that, and if so which it would be that was left standing. He wondered if he would be unable to keep a hold of his temper and fight in front of Ariana, if Albus would even care about their sister that had for so long held him back. In a way it felt as if he was seeing Albus with new eyes, as if after all of the bad temper and resentment it had taken until that moment of fury to finally acknowledge that they were now brothers only in blood, that Albus was no longer a part of the family, that the family that lived isolated in Godric’s Hollow consisted solely of him and Ariana. 

But then Albus turned, barely glancing at Ariana as he walked to the door. The heat of his glare left Aberforth, the hallway suddenly feeling empty and bereft as the hot fury that had ignited between them dissipated. Aberforth almost felt as if he might collapse, the tension leaving him so abruptly as he watched his brother leave, never looking back. It was Gellert who did that, leaving behind Albus, his glance lingering on the two of them before he too swept from the house.

Frightened, unused to such displays of temper, Ariana sidled up to Aberforth, and he drew her into a hug. It would be better this way, he knew. Albus was becoming increasingly more resentful of poor Ariana, treating her as if she was an obstacle standing in his way rather than a darling longer sister to be cared for. She might not be an easy sister to have, after the incident, but she was still their sister. Nothing could ever change that.

He stroked softly through her golden curls, murmuring soothingly to her, relieved to feel her relax in his arms. It would be easier with just the two of them, he thought. He was happy to live a simple, quiet life. He was happy to fill their home with animals to tend to, which would soothe Araina when she became distressed. She liked feeding and stroking the goats, and he saw no reason why that shouldn’t be encouraged. Other animals, smaller and more well trained, could also provide the same level of comfort to her. He had no interest in the things that had always inspired Albus, caring nothing for prestige or revolution, no interest in intellectual pursuits or experiments. Albus could go and spend some time living in Europe as a penniless revolutionary, dreaming his big dreams. Eventually he was bound to come back, his tail between his legs, and beg for their forgiveness. Aberforth hoped he would take his sweet time over that, as he didn’t want to see his brother again for a long time.

He wanted to finally have a chance to take care of Ariana properly, not as if she were a chore to be dealt with, but with the love and devotion that he thought she deserved as their sister. He wanted to be able to show that his ideas and methods would be better than the frustrated resentment with which Albus had approached everything. He was happy for the two of them to be isolated in their home, emerging only for walks in the meadows behind the house or for occasional trips to the shops when necessary. It didn’t matter that she was difficult or that she had her bad moments, what mattered to him was the good moments. 

Outside, Albus stormed away from the home that had become a prison, finally free. He could almost feel the weight lifting from him, the worry of petty responsibilities leaving him in favour of the sense of responsibility he had towards the world as a whole. He knew that he should find the idea of revolution, of taking on the world and bringing about monumental reform, to be the harder of the two, but it was as if it was what he had been born to do. He could almost see the future unravelling before his eyes, bright and full of potential, welcoming him and drawing him headfirst into a worthy struggle. For the first time in a long time, he finally felt truly inspired, no longer the frustrated desire brought on by reading but the sensation that finally he could act upon all he had learnt. 

Gellert caught up to him, a gentle hand touching his back, a thrill of enthusiasm for all that was to come running through them both. There was a moment of uncertainty as they both looked at each other, the future completely open now. It would be hard, an uphill fight against the establishment, but they would face it. No longer were they bound to whispering their thoughts so as to not disturb Ariana, no longer was it all theoretical dreams that could never be implemented. Now they were on the cusp of greatness, able to stride forth into the wider world and change it for the better. They had the knowledge, the power and the passion to revolutionise the wizarding world, for the greater good.


	2. July 1941

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom (July 1941)

Whenever Tom was starting to feel disillusioned or that the future was all a great, insurmountable struggle, he would always curl up with his favourite book. It was old and almost embarrassingly tatty with wear and tear. It had already been old when he had bought it from a second hand shop in Diagon Alley. There were better books, which he had read, but it held a special place in his heart. It was not the first place he had heard mention of Albus Dumbledore and Gellert Grindelwald, but it was the first book he had read which was devoted entirely to them and their attempted revolution. He loved to read and reread each section, though he almost knew the entire book by heart.

There were definitely better books, ones with all the relevant dates properly laid out, and ones with complex analyses of the varying theories that the two young men had proposed. There had even been a few, which had been particularly difficult for Tom to get his hands on, which discussed the issue of homosexuality in the context of the era. Tom didn’t need them though, knowing all that information by heart. He could add in all the details about the ideology behind the attempted revolution as well as all the dates and movements that had happened into the beautiful story that he had read so many times that he could almost recite entire passages.

He loved the romance of it, and the passion hidden within those old pages. He held it close to him, drawing strength from the beauty of revolution, as he made the unpleasant journey back from the station to the orphanage as he did every summer with increasing dread. It was also a relatively slim book, with no explicit references to magic on the cover, so he could get away with reading it outside of the wizarding world. Even within the wizarding world there would sometimes be some raised eyebrows, but everyone knew he was a diligent student who simply wanted to know as much as he possibly could about every topic available to him.

It was a casual mention in an otherwise normal History of Magic class that had served as Tom’s first encounter with Albus Dumbledore and Gellert Grindelwald. To everyone else they were simply household names, he realised later. Names everyone had heard of, people everyone had a vague idea of. Men who had aimed for true greatness. So Tom had done as he always had done, and went to the library. The world could have come crashing down around him as he read. Had the four horsemen on the apocalypse charged through the corridors to signal Armageddon he doubted he would have noticed, so absorbed and enchanted was he. It grew from there to being one of his hobbies, to an extend. He searched out every mention of them in the books he could get his hands on, though they were sadly limited to a few passages in general history books in the Hogwarts Library. There were more detailed pieces of information in the Restricted Section, which he inhaled with delight. But it was the books he bought for himself, whether they were second hand and pre-loved or bought the day they went on sale, that he really treasured. They fully covered the subject matter, and to Tom evoked the proper amount of romance in the glorious dreams that had so briefly set Europe alight.

He wondered if he would have seen through the initial, glorious trappings of magic to the corruption of the muggle world that polluted the wizarding world, had he not been awoken to the cause by that first class when Binns had mentioned Albus and Gellert. He imagined he would have, it might just have taken a little more time for the veneer to wear off to show the decay that lay underneath. 

Hogwarts was far more a home to him than the orphanage, even though he had been raised in the orphanage since birth. He may have only discovered the actual existence of magic when he was eleven, only spent a tiny fraction of his life at Hogwarts, but it already meant so much to him. He felt like he almost belonged there. It wasn’t perfect, and the entire system was in desperate need of a shake up. Tom could see that clearly, and all the books he had read had only made him more certain. He had never felt like he belonged in the orphanage. The other children had never liked him, and he had never liked them. It was the same with the adults. Tom had always been different, and in the moment when he had discovered the existence of magic he had assumed that was it, that he would be whisked away to live the rest of his life with people just like him, learning beautiful magic. It hadn’t been quite that simple, though.

When Tom first arrived at Hogwarts, it had been beyond his wildest dreams, and his childhood dreams had been pretty wild. His first view of the castle, rising majestically above the lake, had stuck in his mind. It was everything he could ever have wished for. Not only was magic real, and he was finally going to be intermingling with people like him, but he would be doing so in an actual castle. It might as well be a million miles away from the life he had lived in the orphanage, a complete turnabout in his fortunes. He had adjusted quickly, almost seamlessly, or at least he had made sure it appeared as such. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that he belonged there, at Hogwarts. He had finally managed to come home, a certainty that echoed through his bones.

It made him hate the orphanage he had always hated even more. It had been a fairly miserable life, but he had never had anything to compare it to. Once he did, he couldn’t look at that existence as anything other than pitiful. The adults that had attempted to care for the children there he regarded with utter contempt, the children he had been raised with almost disgusted him. He had always known he was different from them, set apart and marked out for greatness. The confirmation of his Hogwarts letter had only cemented his belief, showing that he was better than them even if he had been forced to spend the first portion of his life wallowing in their presence. The first time he washed in the Slytherin dormitories was the first time he truly felt clean, as if he had cleaned off the filth of his previous existence. As if he was a snake shedding his skin, emerging new and fresh, ready to take on the world. Ready to bend it to his will.

He absorbed everything, every subject no matter how dull it might seem. Nothing was as boring as the muggle world he had come from. Even History of Magic, which many others in his year found to be uninteresting, consisted of a wealth of knowledge he had yet to encounter. He couldn’t decide what subject he liked the most, each one seeming to fill the hole inside of him that he hadn’t ever truly realised existed, delighting in being able to finally be himself. Be the person he was supposed to be. Casting magic, in amongst his peers.

And it was slowly, gradually, that he had begun to see that the other students around were still different from him. Maybe it was because they had grown up in the wizarding world, grown up surrounded by loving families. Maybe it was because he had been dumped unwanted at an orphanage, left to fend for himself in a cruel world from the very moment of his birth. Maybe it was because the world in which he had had to fight every moment to merely survive was the muggle one, his entire existence being nearly subsumed by their constant presence. He had no real way of knowing for sure, but there was something that separated him from his peers. Even the other Slytherins were different, as far as he could tell. Subtle little differences, the smallest hints of something.

They were witches and wizards, like him, but they weren’t quite like him. He could charm them easily enough, easily ignoring his past existence to recreate himself as a person that quickly had the entire House enchanted with him, hanging on his every word. He knew that he had potential, potential beyond anyone else. The kind of potential to do something great. He just wasn’t entirely sure what yet, but he knew already the basics. He could already see that the way the world was structured, with the wizarding world hiding away, was wrong. Of course, all of his grand dreams hinged on him surviving his pitiful summers back in the orphanage, cowering in fear along with the muggles he was forced to live amongst. 

He hated the orphanage. He had hated it as a child, but now it was worse. He had begged Dippet to allow him to stay at Hogwarts over the summer, offering to help the groundkeepers, but Dippet had refused. He almost wondered if the old wizard was even aware that there was a war raging in muggle Britain, that Tom had no idea if he or the orphanage he nominally lived in would even survive the summer. Tom would be the first to admit that he had little interest in the muggle world, caring far more for the wizarding one that his ancestors had played such an important role in shaping, which he hoped to revolutionise himself in the future. But still he tried to keep at least vaguely up-to-date with it, even during the lengthy term time. A part of him often hoped that he would hear news that the orphanage had been flattened by the bombs, and that therefore he would simply have to stay where he was. Or maybe that the children had been evacuated and he should stay where he was, in the depths of Scotland safe from German bombers. But no such news came, and even if it did he wasn’t sure if Dippet would accept. He could easily imagine being ushered back onto the Hogwarts Express regardless, to find himself sitting lost and unwanted on his trunk on a platform of King’s Cross Station, nowhere to go. Nothing to do except wait until the autumn came and he could return to the castle he considered to be his home. It didn’t matter, that he had traced down his bloodline and discovered himself descended from Salazar Slytherin himself, he was still sent back into the heart of muggle London every summer, heading away from the castle where he belonged to the heart of destruction where bombs could fall at any moment.

At Hogwarts he was an ideal student who always got perfect marks, loved by all his teachers. He was obedient, quiet and conscientious. Popular and competent. He knew he had a bright future ahead of him, regardless of the way his life had begun, or at least he should have. He would stop at nothing to reach his aims. He had a world where anything could be transfigured into anything else, so he had changed from an orphan in an orphanage to a wizard who would bend his new world to his will. He no longer cared what the other orphans thought of him, the jealously of him being away for most of the year and the confusion at the fact that regardless of the Blitz he would return to the orphanage for summer just like clockwork. He knew that he was better than them, that living alongside them just gave him a chance to make a ever-lengthening mental list of the inferiority of muggles. Just as he held his grievances with those that held power in the wizarding world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Regarding my HP WIPs](https://phantomengineer.dreamwidth.org/5881.html)


End file.
